Against All Odds
by The Nutty One
Summary: Fifteen years ago, humans began to enslave vampires. For twelve years Damon Salvatore has been held captive. When the Mikaelsons - a rich human family - come to view him, Damon vows to kill them all and take his freedom. But when he meets the gaze of Klaus Mikaelson, he soon realises that it wouldn't be a great idea to drain his mate's family. Damon/Klaus Slash Non-graphic AU OOC


**Against All Odds**

Damon growled lowly as he heard footsteps and a steady heartbeat approach the wire mesh of his cell. He couldn't see much. The cell was in darkness, and only a thin strip of light dared to slash through the shadows. Damon avoided that area at all costs. The meagre rations of blood wouldn't be enough to heal the burns he would receive.

He crouched in the corner; his bareback against the cold concrete walls. As the heartbeat approached, he moved further into the shadows: anything to avoid being seen. If he was seen then he could be chosen… Damon's stomach rolled at the thought of being controlled – by humans.

It had happened twenty years ago. Somehow, humans had become aware of their existence. And with that, they came to understand a vampire's weakness. Damon had heard them laugh when they had discovered that childhood legends (wooden stakes being lethal) were actually real. And that a plant – Vervain – that they had been growing for centuries could weaken, and potentially kill vampires.

The first few vampires that had been captured were for experimental purposes only. Damon clenched his fists as he thought about them. He'd heard horror stories about those experiments. When humans had found all their weaknesses, and ways to neutralise their strengths, the mass captures had begun. That had been fifteen years ago.

Three years after the captures had begun, Damon had been caught. For one hundred and sixty-five years he had lived amongst humans, feeding from them to survive and using them when he needed them, but it wasn't enough. The ironic thing was, the hunters hadn't even suspected him as a vampire. No. It had been Stefan. And that was only because he had become careless. Stefan had left a trail of animal carcasses (mainly squirrels, the thought still made Damon chuckle) in Mystic Falls. The hunters then attacked him.

Damon may have promised his brother an eternity of misery (and living in these cramped, cold conditions was the definition of that) but brotherly instincts had gotten in the way. Damon had revealed himself as a demon – a creature of the night. During the fight, Stefan had escaped. But Damon had been caught.

That was twelve years ago.

Eight years ago there had been an attempt to break Damon free. Stefan had tracked him down, finally, and had attempted to break him free. It hadn't worked. And he hadn't seen Stefan since. Damon didn't even know if his brother was still free. Probably not. The population of "wild" vampire (it was a term used for degrading vampires. Reducing them to mere mindless animals. Damon snarled at the thought) was decreasing rapidly.

The sound of footsteps had stopped. Outside Damon's cell.

A snarl left his lips though it was muffled by the leather muzzle all captured vampires were forced to wear. It was a contraption, _designed by sadistic bastards whose kink went way past BDSM_ (that had been Damon's initial thought) to stop vampires from being able to bite. The muzzle covered his mouth and the metal coverings attached covered his teeth. He couldn't even close his mouth properly. Two thick leather straps came around the side of his face and locked at the back of his neck. A fingerprint scanner locked the muzzle and could only be unlocked by his owner.

Owner. Even now, after twelve years of trying to get used to the word, it still left a funny taste in his mouth.

"Damon Salvatore." The voice was human – the heartbeats were too fast and the footfalls had been too heavy. Any vampire who acted like that deserved to be captured. "Twelve years? A badly planned escape plan eight years ago?" It was a cultured accent, hard to place.

_"It wasn't badly planned. Just poorly executed – but still awesome,"_ Damon thought. He did a lot of that. For twelve years he hadn't spoken. That was a lie. He'd broken his silence when Stefan had tried to free him. Damon had told him to "fuck off back home before he got caught. The squirrels might miss him."

"You seem interesting. Different. Not broken." The voice was seriously getting on his nerves. In twelve years had humans became so insane that they continued to mutter to themselves as if someone else was there?

The slice of light was suddenly shadowed. Curious, Damon stood from his crouched position. He didn't move forward though. Instead he studied the human in front of him. Dark brown hair and matching eyes. A strong jaw and straight nose. Perhaps in his mid-twenties or late-twenties. Damon couldn't tell; it had been a while since he'd seen anything that could age.

Despite his attempts to stay hidden in the shadows, the human's hazel brown eyes soon locked on his figure. "You can come forward." Again, Damon clenched his fists. It was too much of an order. He stayed where he was. "Vampires: you're all so arrogant." Instead of walking away, the human stayed standing in front of the mesh. Damon saw him look to the left and raise a hand to signal someone. He soon heard another set of hurried footsteps. A guard. Fuck.

"You're interesting. You probably heard me say that. You'll be able to keep Klaus happy – give him a challenge, something to break." Another face joined the human's. A guard. Damon could tell by the atrocious uniform of the Vervain darts strapped to a thick black belt. "I'll take him." The human nodded at Damon as if he were choosing a dog.

The guard nodded. He reloaded the gun with a Vervain dart. Damon didn't even bother to try and dodge it. Instead, he welcomed the burn. He welcomed the numbing feeling that coursed through his body after the initial pain. He welcomed the way his limbs became heavy.

Because, once he was out of the cell, he would drain the human's family dry.

He would escape.

Damon smirked, causing the muzzle to pull, as his body slumped against the wall.

**Against All Odds**

Niklaus Mikaelson looked up from his phone when he heard the large double doors open. He saw Elijah first and the smirk on his brother's lips told him that Elijah had been successful. Klaus stood from the hard plastic chair and moved forward. For the past two years Elijah and Kol (mainly Kol; he was too young for one) had pestered him about having a vampire pet. Elijah already had one – Katarina? Katherine? Klaus couldn't remember. He never paid much attention. And now, he had given in.

He'd have his own blood sucking fucking parasite to look after.

Klaus moved to the side so he could see behind his older brother. A spotty faced, muscular guard was leading a slimmer, black haired man, through the doors.

Immediately, the black haired man had Klaus' attention. His head was bowed and his eyes were cast down. The steps he took were laboured – through Vervain was Klaus' first guess. Black hair, greasy from lack of showers, hung and covered the vampire's face. He was shirtless with only thin ragged black jeans (no doubt the jeans he was captured in). As if he could feel Klaus' inspection, the vampire looked up. A black leather muzzle covered the bottom half of his face but cold, steely blue eyes stared back at Klaus. His pale skin seemed sickly in the harsh fluorescent lighting and there were small scars on his face that hadn't healed. Malnutrition.

But that wasn't what caught his attention. When the vampire had laid eyes on him, his blue eyes had widened in shock before the emotion had been covered by the cold steely gaze that looked at him now. Klaus had seen the slimmer man swallow and glance away. He could have sworn that he saw the vampire mouth "_fuck"_ beneath the muzzle.

"So?" Elijah said, in a tone that told Klaus his brother was bored of waiting. "Do you like? Or not?"

Klaus nodded slowly. "I'll take him." Again the vampire's eyes widened just a fraction. It would have been barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't watching him like an hawk. "What's his name?"

"Damon Salvatore," the guard spoke for the first time.

"Niklaus Mikaelson," Klaus offered. He didn't bother to give his hand to the other vampire. If the menacing yet slightly apprehensive looks Damon was giving him were anything to go by, the leach would probably try and chew off his arm. "I think we'll get along just fine."

Out of his eye corner, Klaus saw the guard coming forward with a number of sheets. With a wave of his hand, Klaus allowed Elijah to fill them in. Instead, he went towards where the vampire had slumped in a hard plastic chair. Damon raised his head to lock eyes with Klaus. This time there was no menace in his eyes. They were dull and lifeless.

"You'll need your fingerprint on his muzzle and on the wrist tag. That way you can take them off if you choose to." The guard's voice was just background noise.

Klaus crouched down in front of Damon, noting the way the vampire tensed at his closeness. Reaching out a hand, he pulled it back quickly when Damon hissed. The sound seemed fearful. Klaus turned to the guard: "How long has he been here?"

"Twelve years."

"Has he had any interaction with others?"

Elijah had looked up from the forms, the black pen hovering above the second page. "Klaus, it doesn't matter. You've picked him. Just get him home now."

"No, not for eight years."

"For eight years?"

"His brother attempted to free him. It's the only interaction he'd had. Before that, there was nobody."

Klaus nodded slowly. He found that Damon was less likely to flinch if he could predict Klaus' movements. "Can you leave us, for ten minutes?"

Both the guard and Elijah frowned. They were reluctant to leave someone unattended with a vampire. "I'll be alone with him at home, won't I?" Klaus murmured to them. The both nodded in unison, and Elijah collected the remaining sheets of paper before following the guard through a side door.

When the door closed, Klaus took the seat beside Damon. For a moment, both vampire and human watched each other warily. Damon's eyes never drifted from Klaus. Every few seconds, the vampire's gaze would flicker to the pulse point of Klaus' neck. Hungry. How often had he been fed?

"You heard the guard," Klaus began softly. He raised his hand slowly. Damon's eyes followed the movement like a rabbit would watch a fox advance. "To take the muzzle off, you need my fingerprint. I'll take it off when you get home." When Klaus' fingers brushed over Damon's cheeks and along the straps of leather, the vampire tensed. "I know you don't want this," he continued to talk – it seemed to distract Damon from his touch. Maybe even calmed him. "But it'll be better than being here." His hand travelled to the back of Damon's neck and his fingers began to tangle in Damon's short black hair. The vampire didn't seem to notice, or care. "You won't be wild," He ignored the small snarl that Damon gave at the term 'wild', "but you'll have your own room. You'll be fed regularly. You'll be clothed and kept warm…" Klaus found himself listing numerous different things. For some reason, a reason he didn't quite understand, he wanted the vampire to trust him.

When he pressed his thumb against the fingerprint scanner, it made a small click which caused Damon to tense up once again. Confused blue eyes met his when nothing else happened. "Not everything's going to hurt you." He moved his hand away and steadily reached for Damon's wrist tag. It was thick and black and looked to be embedded with small darts. Vervain. When Klaus touched this, Damon hissed loudly and moved back in his chair. The veins around his eyes darkened as his breathing quickened. He wasn't afraid, just wary. "Shh, just look at me." Damon's eyes flicked from the wrist tag to meet Klaus'. "That's it, just look at me." There was another small click as Klaus pressed his thumb to the fingerprint scanner.

He moved his fingers up Damon's arm, settling them just above the wrist tag. Klaus drew small soothing circles over Damon's pale skin. Moments passed, each one seeming to enjoy the other, and Damon slowly relaxed. The coldness and wariness left his gaze and instead he looked at Klaus in confusion. A small growl came from Damon's chest and Klaus understood that it wasn't in defence; but Damon's way of saying thanks.

**Against All Odds**

Damon hadn't expected the human to be so…to be so…he couldn't even think of a word for it. When he had been lead through the large double doors, Damon had been met with blue eyes beneath a stylish dirty blonde hair. The moment their eyes had met, Damon knew that his entire plan to drain the human's family had to go.

His mate would never forgive him if he woke up one morning and saw Damon feasting like a parched man on his older brother.

Not that he would tell the human that he was Damon's mate. Anything about the human being his mate would be kept secret.

When the older brother and the guard had left, Damon had been surprised – and a little apprehensive – at the tenderness the human (Klaus, as he had introduced himself) was showing. Klaus had promised to remove the muzzle, something Damon ached for him to do straight away, and had promised a number of other things too. But Damon wasn't stupid enough to believe any of it. Too many times he had been double crossed in the last twelve years.

When Klaus had introduced himself, he had mentioned his surname. Damon recognised it instantly. The Mikaelsons: one of the most notorious and rich families in the world. Rumour had it that their youngest child had been mauled by a rabid dog but everyone in the supernatural knew it was by a werewolf. Which Damon found bizarre considering that werewolves usually preferred the cooler climate further North.

Moments later, Klaus had excused the guard and his older brother. He'd sat beside Damon, and with his hand he had begun to trace a patter over Damon's cheek, before his hand found the fingerprint scanner at the base of his head. At first, Damon had startled at the human's warm touch. It had been twelve years…the only flesh he'd felt against his own was when the guards had thought he deserved a beating. The touch had caused heat to spread through his cold body, the effect only caused because the man was his mate.

Mate. The very thought of a human being his mate…

If it weren't for the muzzle, Damon would have laughed.

**Hey up! Hope you enjoy this one so far, but I'm not too sure about it. I've never written any stories like this before so I'd love your thoughts about it! Please review – all comments are welcome! Thanks for reading!**

**The Nutty One xx**


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